In Memoriam
by The Storyteller of Dreams
Summary: "I am Edward Middleford, the son of Alexis Leon Middleford and Frances Middleford, older brother to Elizabeth Middleford. I am a Knight of England, forever sworn to protect her people. At least, that was who I was until I died saving a certain blond Reaper and ended up in Limbo without my memories. The least you can do then, Ronald Knox, is aid me in bringing my killer to justice."


Title: _In Memoriam_

Summary: _"I am Edward Middleford, the son of Alexis Leon Middleford and Frances Middleford, older brother to Elizabeth Middleford. I am a Knight of England, forever sworn to protect her people. At least, that was who I was until I died saving a certain blond Reaper and ended up in Limbo without my memories. The least you can do then, Ronald Knox, is aid me in bringing my killer to justice."_

Character(s): Edward Middleford, Ronald Knox, Elizabeth Middleford, Ciel Phantomhive

Pairing(s): Ronald/Edward, Ciel/Lizzie, etc…

**It has come to my attention that Ronald looks a lot like America/Alfred from Hetalia **_**(and even kind of acts the same!),**_** while Edward looks really similar to England/Arthur **_**(if he has thicker eyebrows). **_**So! Since I love USUK, and there's a really, really distinct lack of Ronald/Edward fics, I'm making one of my own. Hopefully, this will inspire others to make more Ron/Ed fics! **_**(*hopeful stare/puppy dog eyes*)**_

**That said, even though the main pairing is what this fandom considers 'crack pairing', I'll endeavor to make this a **_**(somewhat) **_**serious story. It'll focus deeply on the Reaper's world and society, as well as the effects of Edward's death on the Middlefords **_**(especially Elizabeth, whom I'm hoping to turn from a girly little girl to a full-fledged Badass Knight who can be Ciel's equal and partner).**_

**Please be aware of the presence of magic in this fic. And I do mean the **_**spells **_**kind of thing, and the kind where you think of something and it happens. However, there are limitations to magic in this fic which will be known later.**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: That Reaper, Search<strong>

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><p>"<em>So word by word, and line by line,<em>

_The dead man touch'd me from the past,_

_And all at once it seem'd at last_

_The living soul was flash'd on mine."_

-Alfred Tennyson, _In Memoriam_

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><p>How many centuries had passed since he last saw the sky?<p>

Alarms blared out, ringing like incessant flies circling overhead, flashing red lights on the sterile white walls. It wasn't there when he last walked through these corridors as a prisoner, but it had been centuries since his imprisonment and who knew how far Limbo's technology had advanced? Who knew how far _she _has taken these dead-humans-turned-guardians to. For all he knew, they may have discovered a way to make men fly.

It didn't matter. Nothing does, really, in this moment. He had to run. Run, run, and continue running to escape the human-shaped hounds they called his jailers. _Reapers. _Tch, an annoyance, more like. Once upon a time, he may have bitten his words, choke them back and deny them _(for he was once proud of being a Reaper, but no more, no more)_, but now curses flowed easily down his chapped lips, laced with energy and spirit and centuries-old bitterness and hatred. _Magic. _Those curses became _power _then_, _spells which hinder and harmed his pursuers, putting more distance between himself and the Reapers on duty.

Behind him, a wall of fire and a rain of ice flared and pierced his chasers.

Soon enoughhe had left the prison which had been his home _(never, no, it was hell)_ for centuries. He gazed up, to the aloof sky, framed by a circle of coniferous trees clawing upwards, and laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and _laughed. _Because why shouldn't he? He was out, free for the first time in what felt like eternity, and in doing so he had proven _her _words wrong. _Her, _the unflappable, perfect, worshipped, superior. _Her_, the so-called _woman (he spat the thought in disgust. __**Her, **__a __**person**__, someone like __**them—**__**him?**__ No, no, no) _who ordered his imprisonment. _Her, _the one who could not see the potential of his experiments _(or perhaps she did, and that was why she ordered him to stop). _He laughed again, and only the crows were there to laugh alongside him _(or rather, it was only they who dared to do so)_.

His prison rested on a lonely mountain; situated on a precarious cliff, as if just one push and everything will come falling down into the ravine below it. From where he stood now, high above them _(for why should he not? They did not understand what he knew) _he could see everything with perfect clarity. His former prison was burning, and if he closed his eyes and concentrate, he imagined hearing the screams of the dozens of elite Reapers and prisoners there. _Dead once again, _he thought, and perhaps giggled a bit. It was amusing. They were already dead, yet apparently death could still come to them anyway. He briefly wondered where all those souls _(those poor, poor souls which in life were neither too good for Heaven nor too evil for Hell)_ would go. Would they be reborn into the Human Realm, or would they go to the Forest of Awakening once more to become reapers _(important thing, that; the difference between reapers and Reapers)_? Or maybe…

_The origin._

The thought nearly had him salivating, but he forced himself to be composed. It was not yet done, or rather, it was _almost _completed before _she _came along and ruined it. Hmph! Well, no matter. He expected all his works on the subject to be destroyed already, but that was fine. He remembered everything. Or at least, everything that was worth remembering. The years of his imprisonment made it all the more clearer to his to facilitate his mind and focus only on the important things. His project, his goals, his revenge. Yes, everything may be ruined _for now, _but he could rebuild, and when it was finished, he would show _her._

He would show _everyone _they were wrong.

He laughed again, head tilted back and face towards the cold, cold moon.

First thing first, he needed to find a natural portal, one of those little wefts and warps in the fabric of reality which would allow him to escape Limbo, the Reaper's Realm _(__**her **__domain)_, and one which wasn't guarded by _her _dogs.

And then…

He grinned, impatient to begin.

* * *

><p>Ronald Knox hated working overtime.<p>

There were so many things worth doing other than work. Sure, he liked his job as a Reaper, but not _that _much. Honestly, if he had any say in it all, he would much rather go out with one of the girls in the Personnel Department and party rather than being stuck in his supervisor's dreary office. He did try to curb it a bit _(only a bit though), _because his co-workers already treat him like a youngster, despite having lived for several centuries, due to his teenage looks. It wasn't _his _fault he died young. How was he supposed to know that demons and fae and fallen angels were real?

Talk about being caught at the wrong place in the wrong time.

That said, he rather enjoyed his afterlife. At least it was _much _more pleasant than his previous life, when he had to do many, many things which disgusted him just to scrape by. The Reaper's Realm wasn't exactly Paradise, but people were cared for here, no matter their social class, race, or status in life. They got the credits they needed to live _(or something close to it when you were dead) _every month by the government and could get extra if they were willing to work. Food, shelter, healthcare, and education were a basic right to all who lived in Limbo, and though Ronald's recollection of his past life was a bit incomplete _(like most others living in this realm), _the Reaper knew that such things were a luxury back when he was still alive.

Hell, it was still a luxury _now._

_(There was irony there, Ronald mused absently, when being dead was better than being alive.)_

Still, on days like these, Ronald wished he was still a student in the Academy. Life _(or 'unlife', as some of his friends called it) _was much easier when he was still a newbie to the Reaper's Realm. All he had to do was attend the classes given to him, get good grades, try not to sleep during lectures, and all in all, just enjoy the wonders of Limbo. Absently, momentarily ignoring William's briefing on the rogue Reaper he and his senior partner was supposed to capture, Ronald wondered about his former Greeter.

How was Lindiwe doing? It had been such a long time since he saw the African woman. Last he heard, Lindiwe had retired from being a Reaper and had returned to her previous job in the Greeter Organisation, helping the new souls who had just woken up in the Forest of Awakening to acclimatise with reaper's society. It was a good job for her, Ronald admitted, thinking to call her sometime soon; someone as nice and friendly as her would be better at comforting the newly dead than reaping the souls and Cinematic Records of the dying. Sometimes, Ronald thought, looking at his seniors, being a Reaper chipped away bits and pieces of you, taking a part of you every time you see another person dead or dying and realise there was _nothing _you could do to help.

_(It still bothered him whenever he had to reap the souls of young children. They barely had the time to live; to see the world or make their mark on someone else's life…It wasn't fair…Why must they die so young?)_

Death is an absolute rule, however, and as a Reaper _(as someone stuck in the twilight of life and death)_, Ronald understood it was the one thing that could _never _be changed.

_(It wasn't fair, it just __**was**__, and perhaps that was the hardest lesson for him to learn.)_

"Do you understand," William T. Spears said more than asked, "You two are assigned to apprehend Adrian Baines, a former Reaper who once worked in the Research and Development Department."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," his partner, Grell Sutcliff, said, "Don't get your panties in a twist, Will, I still remember the guy. He's the one who made my chainsaw, remember?"

Really, that was news to Ronald. Interested, the blond Reaper looked back and forth between his two seniors.

"I remember," William replied, and Ronald blinked. Did his supervisor sounded _resigned? _No, it was more like…_sad, _which was even more shocking to the blond. The dark-haired Reaper briefly closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers. "That's why I'm concerned. I don't think it's a good idea for you two to be the ones hunting him."

"_You, _concerned? Heh," the redhead Reaper chuckled lowly. "That's new. Don't worry, I'm the strongest Reaper in this division, and I'll make sure Ronald won't get himself killed too, so just relax, Will."

"I can take care of myself." Ronald mumbled quietly.

Both ignored him. William sighed, flicking his eyes open to look at Grell. "Don't do anything rash. You know as well as I do how powerful Baines is. And try not to get too caught up with the demon, Grell."

"Aww, jealous?" she smirked, blowing a kiss which caused their supervisor to blush deeply. "Sebas-darling may be handsome enough to make me want to cut him up into itty bitty little pieces and bathe him in red, but you're the only man for me, Will-dear."

If possible, William blushed even darker, coughing awkwardly as if that could displace the sudden awkward mood. Ronald turned his head away, pointedly looking at an idyllic landscape painting on the wall. Had he ever noticed that before? Such a lovely shade of…red…_err…_

_(Grell really loved to torment her juniors, doesn't she?)_

"Enough." William said sternly, but the effect was somewhat ruined by his fierce blush. "You have your mission, now leave and don't return until you have something to report."

Grell cackled as she spun on her heels, scarlet coat swishing behind her, and exited the office. Ronald to a moment to glance at his supervisor, whose blush was fading with every step his partner took, before leaving, closing the door behind him politely _(hey, he didn't want more trouble than necessary)_. The blond Reaper sighed as he followed after the extravagant red Reaper, nodding to fellow Reapers and giving a flirty smile to some as he headed to the Transporter Hall. He had a feeling that this was going to be one of those long missions, and it would feel even longer if he was with Grell.

Ronald sighed again as he caught up to his partner. He hated doing overtime.

* * *

><p><em>Two women had disappeared on Fenchurch Street.<em>

_A man was found dead on Tobacco Dock._

_A couple was found comatose nearby the Tower of London._

_A small group of nobles were kidnapped on Wapping High Street._

Ciel tapped at the map with irritation. Red pins were stabbed through the locations of the victims' last appearances, along with small notes on the side detailing their discovery. These, however, gave the young noble no further ideas on the identity of the criminal, and Ciel was hesitant on attacking before fully understanding who the enemy was. Still, the Queen was getting anxious, especially after the low-ranked nobles were kidnapped. It was one thing to take a few prostitutes, maybe even a couple of normal civilians, but once the nobles were taken then society will begin to fuss.

_(Which was exactly fair to the commoners, but Ciel knew the world wasn't fair.)_

"Darjeeling tea today, my lord." Sebastian spoke from behind him, his ever enigmatic smile fixed firmly on his face as he bowed to the young noble.

Ciel barely glanced at him, simply reaching out to where he knew the tea was placed on top of the silver tray his demon butler carried. It was almost instinct by this point; Ciel knew exactly where his butler was when he was within the vicinity. The familiarity did not surprise him, though it perhaps bothered him a bit, and Ciel brought the cup to his lips as he surveyed the maps once more.

"This case again, my lord?" Sebastian asked. "Did we not confirm that the criminal is most likely hiding in the Saint Katherine Docks?"

"Yes, we know that." Ciel replied, placing the cup back on the tray. "Yet we still haven't found any clues as to who this criminal could be. Obviously it wasn't any mere thugs, as no normal human could ever rip the souls of another, yet you also said you didn't sense any demonic aura. That means we are dealing with an unknown supernatural, Sebastian, and I rather like to investigate more before discussing attack plans."

"A wise move, but may I suggest something?"

"You're going to do so anyway, so you might as well get on with it." Ciel grumbled lightly.

"Very well," Sebastian nodded respectfully, like all high-class butlers do. "Have you considered the Reapers, my lord? They, too, have the power to take souls."

"The Reapers are a neutral party." Well, as long as Grell didn't see Sebastian at least. Most of the time, as long as they didn't interfere with each other's duties, they got along fairly well. "Besides, this doesn't seem like something the Undertaker would do."

_(The Undertaker would do the whole thing for a laugh, but Ciel wasn't laughing, and he had a feeling that this case wasn't a joke.)_

"I do not mean it that way." Sebastian replied. "I meant that they may have some relevant information we could use. It may be best if we find one and consult them regarding the case."

Ciel frowned. "You would ask the Reaper? Why, Sebastian, when we both know they would only be there to take care of the dead?"

"That may be so, but it is also their duties to safeguard the souls of the dead and make sure they reach whatever afterlife awaits them." His demon butler answered. "I am certain they would be interested in this case when they hear of the missing souls."

The young noble looked at the map again. It was true, Ciel mused, that the Reapers would surely be interested in such a thing. He remembered the _Campania, _how the two Reapers assigned there spoke of investigating the soulless, moving corpses. Perhaps they were looking into this matter even now. In that case, it would only make sense to ally with them for now, at least for the duration of his mission. The problem was, however, finding a Reaper that wouldn't attack them on sight _(Grell), _wouldn't flat out despise them upon seeing Sebastian _(William), _and who knew them enough to listen to them _(who?)_.

Ciel groaned, resting his elbow on the arm of his chair and pressing a palm against his forehead. "Do you know how difficult it is to find a Reaper who'll talk to us? Most of them would like to kill you on sight, and we can't talk if you're busy fighting them."

"It'll be a simple matter of wearing them out and beating them to the ground." Sebastian replied, and was it his imagination, or did Ciel saw his Mona Lisa smile twist upwards in real amusement?

"I rather not. It's a waste of time doing so." The young noble said, tapping his map once again. "Still, maybe there's something they can say about all this…Very well, Sebastian, we're going out tonight."

Sebastian smiled enigmatically, a hand over his heart as he bowed deeply, formally _(like any good butlers do)._

"Yes, my lord."

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><p>Ronald had put his past behind him.<p>

London had changed since he died, so much so that it could stun him if he ever thought of it too deeply. Dirt paths had turned to concrete, ramshackle wood houses had become solid brick buildings, and phrases and words he once believed to be cool were now so archaic that only the oldest grandparents used them anymore. Time had taken away many things he knew, and ended certain periods he liked. It was almost like death, the most fundamental, strictest rule which all life adhered to, and Ronald had been in the business long enough to confidently make that statement.

Change was like death.

Still, it wasn't so bad. There were some things that remained the same, no matter when or where. The people, for once, beneath all the veneer of advancements and social constructs, were still the same. Sometimes, Ronald liked to spend his break walking around the streets he used to roam, observing everyone mingling and walking past, keeping up with the latest news. He could see with his own eyes the same greed and love and hate and ambitions and pride; _everything _which used to drive the people back when he was alive inside of every single human he saw right now. Humanity, he mused, has an interesting quality of remaining intrinsically the same while changing at the same time.

No wonder many supernatural found them amusing.

Now, he looked at the boy called Ciel Phantomhive, the one in which many strange beings were drawn to, and wonder.

It was obvious that revenge drove the boy. Why else would he make a deal with the devil? Pride, too, had some factor in it _(and didn't it cause God's greatest angel to be thrown out of heaven?)_. It almost made Ronald shook his head, sigh, and hope that when the day comes _(as it would inevitably) _some other Reaper would collect his Cinematic Records.

Certain Reapers might find Ciel Phantomhive's life story to be interesting, and while Ronald was entertained by his presence _(seriously, the kid had the worst luck, and the occasional amusing events), _he didn't find a life centred around revenge and pride to be remarkable. _Boring, _more like it. It was so obvious that the boy believed himself to be the centre of the universe, to be the only thing that mattered in this world. Sure, he may consider the few people close to him important, but at the end of the day, Ciel Phantomhive was nothing more than a selfish, self-destructive brat.

_(And that's not accounting all the hassle involved in retrieving the soul. Really, demons are a pest.)_

Above them, the moon shone coldly upon the starlit skies, the silver Cheshire grin of the heavens. Streaks of red and black crisscrossed the sky as Grell and the demon, Sebastian, clashed, a macabre dance fitting for one such as them; chainsaw roaring and silverware flying, while behind the two onlookers was an empty street and the dead body whose soul Ronald had retrieved. He should probably help his senior, but the flamboyant Reaper would probably get mad if he interrupted his playtime with 'Sebas-darling', and he would really like to avoid an irate partner for the duration of this mission.

So, Ronald leaned against the wall, waiting for them to finish.

"You're not helping him?" The boy asked, and really, if Ronald didn't knew what he knew; he might have thought Ciel was innocently curious.

As it was, the blond Reaper merely shrugged, saying. "Nah, Grell will skin me alive if I interrupted her playtime. Anyway, it's not like your butler was stealing any soul," _except yours, eventually, _"so I rather just wait them out than risk getting killed."

The boy nodded, seemingly accepting his reason. "I rather agree with you." He looked at him, a hand under his chin, "Hmm…this isn't the first time we met, is it?"

"Nope," he replied, "We met at the _Campania. _I was the one who told you two how to stop those Bizarre Dolls."

"I see, thank you for that." Ciel said, extending a hand in greeting, "Forgive me, but it seemed I have forgotten your name."

He raised an eyebrow at that. Was he _really _being civil when his butler was fighting with his partner? Ronald glanced at the hand extended again. Well, it certainly _seemed _so, but why? What was the noble trying to pull?

"Ronald Knox of the Reaper Association's Dispatch Department," the blond Reaper said, shaking his hand. It felt very strange to do so when Grell was hollering flirtatious threats _(and ugh, too much information, senior!) _while trying to kill the demon butler under the other's employ. Still, it wasn't as if he had any personal grievances against them _(the whole sold-your-soul-to-a-demon thing aside, which meant more work for whoever was unfortunate enough to have to retrieve the Earl's soul)_.

_(Though now that he thought of it, wasn't retrieving souls eaten by demons part of the Demon Hunter Division's job?)_

"Ciel Phantomhive, Earl of the Phantomhive Family," the boy returned, gripping his hand confidently before withdrawing. He looked curious again. "This is the first time I talked civilly with a Reaper."

"The Undertaker doesn't count?"

"I didn't know he was a Reaper before then," he replied, a grimace crossing his features. "Looking back, it should've been obvious. There was definitely something strange about him."

"Yeah, there is." Ronald nodded.

Silence descended upon them, punctuated by the noisy clashing of a Reaper and a demon.

Ronald rubbed the back of his head. _Awkward…_

Next to him, the boy coughed lightly, drawing his attention even as Sebastian let loose a dozen of knives at Grell, who easily sliced them away with her chainsaw. The blond Reaper turned his attention to the noble, ignoring the two fighters for now.

"I suppose there's no other way to say this…" Ciel sighed, a small frown on his face. A look of determination was set on his face. "Do the Reapers know of the murders happening in London right now?"

Ronald scratched his head, "You go to be a bit more specific, Earl. Lots of people are killed every day in this city."

"Very well…"Annoyance flashed in his visible eye. "How about certain kidnappings then? There has been a number of people found missing, only to be found later either dead or soulless. Do you know anything about it?"

"Soulless? Well, _that's _a problem." Ugh, Ronald didn't _do _overtime, but this seemed important. No humans could steal another soul, so it was either a demon or… "Hmm…maybe…"

"Maybe what?" Ciel prompted.

The blond Reaper pursed his lips. "I don't know whether I should say this…I _really _don't want to get into trouble with management and do extra paperwork. I hate overtime, you know? Buuuut…"

He glanced at his senior partner, who was still fighting with Sebastian. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, or at least Grell was. The demon seemed as composed as ever, if a little disgusted at the red Reaper's teasing words. Well, it wasn't like Grell was a paragon of responsibility anyway, and she seemed to be too busy to notice his dilemma. Great, that meant the decision was up to _him. _Ronald turned to looked at Ciel again, silently wondering to himself what the boy was plotting underneath his stoic façade.

Sighing, the blond Reaper pushed his hands into his pockets. "We're currently on a mission to look for a rogue Reaper, not the Undertaker though, but Adrian Baines of the Research and Development Department."

"I see…" The noble said, looking thoughtful. "Can you explain more about your mission?"

"Sure, but you got to give me something in return." Ronald grinned when the Earl grimaced. "Why are you so interested in this?"

"It's a mission from the Queen," the boy answered after a minute of silence. "I was sent to look into the mysterious kidnappings, and so far, all we have uncovered is that it is done by someone not human."

"I doubt it's the _only _thing you've uncovered." The Reaper smirked. "Come on, Phantomhive, if I'm telling you this then you gotta give me something in return."

He could _almost _hear the other growl. "Fine. The kidnappings and discovery of the corpses and soulless victims all occurred around Saint Katherine Docks."

"That's better," Ronald replied. In the background, Grell was shouting obscene things _(which he really, __**really **__rather not hear) _at Sebastian. The blond Reaper said, "Alright, since you gave me that, I'll tell you this: Adrian Baines was imprisoned for illegal experimentation on souls. It's a bit unclear, but it seemed he was researching about the 'origins' of the soul, whatever that was."

Ciel nodded. "I see. Is there anything else?"

"Sure, like the shape of his deathscythe, his appearance, you know, all that," Ronald grinned. "But I'm not telling you anything more unless you got something else to give."

As expected, the young noble grimaced, his frown looking heavy under the pale moonlight. "What do you want then?"

He tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully. Well, he didn't really expect the Earl to accept his condition so easily. To be honest, he was expecting more of a fight, though he was relieved it wasn't so. Still, what could he ask of him…

"You and your demon are going to help us capture Adrian Baines," the blonde Reaper finally answered, "and unlike the _Campania, _there won't be any fight over who gets him. You will hand him over to us and give your report to your Queen without him."

Ciel pursed his lips, as if mildly displeased, "I suppose human security won't be any match to a Reaper."

It wasn't a question, but Ronald nodded anyway. The boy seemed to mulled over it carefully, staring up at him with an inscrutable look in his lone eye. Behind them, Grell and Sebastian continued to fight, as if oblivious to the on-going negotiations.

"Acceptable," the noble said at last, nodding with finality at the deal. He extended his hand again, and Ronald shook it, a little surprised at how _easy _it all was. This was going to be one of the bad missions, wasn't it? Just a feeling, but nothing good ever came up when things were going _too _smoothly _(or if a certain adolescent noble was a part of it)_.

Ciel glanced at the fight as he withdrew his hand, shouting at the fighters, "Sebastian, stop! We've come to an agreement!"

As the fight drew to a screeching halt, Ronald frowned, seeing the frustrated look on Grell's face as the demon stopped fighting to jump to his master's side. Suddenly, that angered gaze was pinned on _him, _scorching hot and blazing with fury. He gulped, sent a prayer to whatever god was listening, and hoped the red Reaper wouldn't kill him for ending her 'fun'.

Ronald _really _didn't want to die again.

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 1: END<strong>

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><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

I use the feminine pronouns in this chapter to describe Grell since it was mostly done from Ronald's point of view. In this story, the reapers are fine with someone like Grell _(who calls himself a woman even though he's physically a male)_ as their society is a _lot _different than Victorian era was. However, when using a human's point of view, Grell will be described with masculine pronouns, such as 'he' or 'his', as they didn't really have the concept of a male declaring himself a female back then.

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><p><strong>Fun Facts:<strong>

-The poet Alfred Tennyson was the 1st Baron Tennyson, born during the Victorian era. He was one of the British's most popular poets and his poems, especially _In Memoriam A.H.H. _(written for his best friend, Arthur Henry Hallam, who died before being able to marry Tennyson's sister), was well liked by Queen Victoria. She liked that particular poem best because she was "much soothed and pleased" after reading it following her husband's, Prince Albert's, death.


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